


Please Accept Me For Me...

by The_Fandom_Galaxy



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Reader-Insert, nonbinary reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26272045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fandom_Galaxy/pseuds/The_Fandom_Galaxy
Summary: (Y/N) has been battling dysphoria for quite a while now but on a case with the team, it gets too much to handle. She begins questioning her gender again and becomes distant from the one she loves most. Spencer. Spence gets concerned and (Y/N) comes out to him.Basically a lot of emotional hurt on the reader's part but Spencer makes everything okay again and fluff ensues.
Relationships: Emily Prentiss & Reader, Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 60





	Please Accept Me For Me...

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic because I felt my fellow nonbinary friends could use something relatable and cute with Dr. Reid. This is also the first time in like... a really long time that I have written fanfiction, so it's probably not great. But I hope you all enjoy <3

You took in your reflection, wondering if you should bite the bullet and finally purchase a binder.

It wasn’t that you entirely abhorred the thought of others perceiving you as female. After all, you were feminine aligned and you didn’t always feel this way. But today dysphoria about your chest was hitting you hard. Every time you had to look at it you wished it was flat and sometimes, the thought made you uncomfortable. Some days you couldn’t even stomach to look at your body in the mirror because of it.

Today was one of those days.

Sighing, you turned away from the mirror. You had to be at the office in just over forty minutes and you were bound to be late if you kept staring at your reflection. Serial killers don’t wait and neither does the BAU.

* * *

The team was already debriefing when you arrived. You stepped into the room as silently as possible, listening to Garcia go over the case files.

You took your usual place between Reid and Morgan, both of whom looked at you with slight concern.

You were rarely ever late.

Reid kept staring at you, a silent plea to know if you were alright. You nodded and that seemed to satisfy him. For now.

You eyed the photos in the case file. Five women brutally murdered in the span of less than three weeks. Each had signs of sexual assault.

“What’s the connection between the victims?” You asked.

“And how do they know this is all the same guy and not just random murders?” Morgan asked.

“Because he’s doing this—” Garcia pulls up an image on the screen. Each of the women had their hearts removed. “As for the connection, NYPD can’t find one. They are all young women between their mid-twenties and late-thirties, stable jobs, families. As far as NYPD can tell, these women had nothing in common.”

It was silent for a few moments as everyone took in

“Wheels up in ten,” Hotch said, exiting the conference room.

* * *

Upbeat music thrummed throughout the bar and into the restroom where you and Prentiss stood. The team had sent you both in undercover, searching for the unsub. This was your last hope to catch the son of a bitch, seeing as you all were running out of ideas.

You both had come straight to the restroom when you got to the bar. Neither of you had wanted to seem suspicious while you went over the plan for the night, so “freshening up” seemed like your best bet.

Now that the plan was set in stone, Emily gave you a final once over. “If only we were back home. You look gorgeous! Men would be falling head over heels for you. Although, I doubt Reid would like that very much. He’ll be staring heart eyes at you all night when he gets here.”

“Ha, yeah,” you stifled a breath. Heat rose to your cheeks. You were always embarrassed and shy when anyone mentioned Reid’s affection and love for you. Though, this time that wasn’t entirely why you were blushing.

You were anxious going out into the bar wearing such a revealing outfit. You didn’t need the idea of Reid wanting to take you home for the night in your head.

“More than he already does,” she added smiling, having mistaken the majority of your anxiety for being flustered over the thought of Reid.

You turned to your reflection. You wore a knee-length wine-colored backless dress. Down the side, there was a split, exposing your right thigh, and it only finally ended at the hip. The front had a deep v-neck that stopped an inch or so below your breasts, leaving them _very_ noticeable.

The sight of your body so exposed made you uneasy.

“Come on, (Y/N/N),” Emily’s voice drew you away from your thoughts. “You look totally sexy! We’ll catch this guy in no time and then you can spend the night with Reid.”

Pulling your eyes away from the mirror, you followed Emily back out the door into the main room of the bar.

* * *

The day after the case, you sat at your desk in the bullpen, going over all the paperwork that had piled up. You chewed on the fingernail of your thumb, lost in thought. You could barely focus on work.

  
  


All day your mind had been wandering back to last night. Emily has called you sexy… and you had to wear a dress that had kicked your dysphoria into overdrive.

So, once again, you were questioning your gender and sexuality—both of which you currently felt as though you were faking. Which why should you be? You had felt uncomfortable, yes… but did that really mean you were nonbinary? What about asexual? Emily had called you sexy and everyone on the team assumed that you and Reid were sexually active.

But you weren’t and you were sex-repulsed, weren’t you? The longer you’d thought about it, the longer having been called “sexy” made you uncomfortable. But maybe your family was right… if you did it you’d like it.

_It doesn’t work like that, (Y/N)._ You’d reminded yourself countless times that it doesn’t work like that, but no matter how hard you tried... You always ended up doubting everything. Thinking you were a cishet woman.

Your eyes began to burn, filling with tears and you blinked them away. You hoped no one saw. If they did, they’d want to help you… but would they understand? Could you come out to them?

You wanted to believe the team would be accepting of who you were. You especially wanted your boyfriend to accept you. Spencer. And if that meant staying in the closet… well, then you’d do that.

  
  


You sighed, sliding back your chair. If you were to finish this paperwork, you needed coffee. Lots of it.

  
  


“Hey…” Spencer said softly. You turned to look at him. “You okay? You’ve seemed… off since last night.”

  
  


“Yeah,” you nodded, “I’m fine.” You brushed him off defensively.

  
  


You winced when you saw the hurt on his face. Mentally, you reprimanded yourself for hurting him. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! There was no reason to go off on him like that!_

  
  


Abandoning your coffee on the counter, you walked back to your desk.

  
  


* * *

The familiar comfort of your apartment was a breath of fresh air after the past few days you’d had. It relaxed you in a way you hadn’t realized how tense you had been.

After changing into sweats and an oversized t-shirt, you sat on the couch mindlessly watching TV.

Your thoughts now roamed to Spencer. You hated yourself for treating him the way you had. You hated yourself for not being able to be honest with him about your identity.

But then again what if that changed things? What if he broke up with you because he doesn’t want to date someone who isn’t cishet?

Biting your lip, tears welled in your eyes. There was only one way to find out but would that cause more heartbreak than it was worth?

You reached for your phone but thought better of it. Spencer knew you well enough, or you thought he knew you well enough, to know when something was wrong and just how long to leave you alone before coming to check on you. He’d show up soon.

At least, that’s what you hoped.

Later in the evening, there was a knock at your door. You looked through the peephole to see a disheveled Spencer anxiously tapping his foot.

You unlocked the door and opened it, allowing your boyfriend to step inside.

“Hey…”

“(Y/N), what’s going on?”

Well, that was quick. You sighed and started gnawing on your lip. You walked over to the sofa and sat down. He sat next to you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I-I’m so confused.”

“About?”

“About me. It doesn’t help that—” You shook your head. You were so scared to confess everything you felt. Your fears about him no longer loving you. Your fears about not only coming out for the first time but to the one person who if he didn’t accept who you were you’d die inside.

He looked at you intently. “That?”

“That you may not love me once you know. And I’d rather keep it to myself than risk you not loving me anymore.”

Spencer tucked your hair behind your ear. “What is it, baby? I highly doubt that whatever you have to say will make me stop loving you.”

“I—”

_Come on, (Y/N), just say it!_

“I’m,” you hesitated, “a part of the LGBT community.”

Spencer tilted his head to look you in the eyes, but your gaze was cast downward. He didn’t speak for a few moments, most likely processing what you’d said.

“Me too,” he said at last.

That wasn’t what you expected to hear. You shifted your gaze to up at him, your jaw dropping in surprise. “What?”

“I’m biromantic and asexual,” your boyfriend smiled. “Wow, it’s good to finally be able to tell you that.”

You visibly relaxed and said, “I’m also ace but I’m more than that. I’m nonbinary. At least, I think I am. It’s been confusing the last few days.”

“Nonbinary, that’s being neither male nor female, right? You don’t identify with the gender binary.”

You nodded, grinning. It made you so happy that he knew what nonbinary was. But then your smile faltered.

He quickly noticed, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, it’s just that every time that I think I have it figured out, something comes along to make me doubt it again and I start questioning. I have really, really shitty dysphoria sometimes.”

Spencer nodded, listening to every word.

“I’ve been contemplating buying a binder and last night I was forced to wear that dress…” The tears you had been holding back all day finally began to leave your eyes.

Spencer pulled you against him as he leaned back on the sofa. You twisted, turning your body into his, resting your head on his shoulder as you cried. He combed his fingers through your hair, a calming gesture that almost always soothed you.

“I don’t know anymore,” you said quietly through your tears. “I hate that I don’t know who I am. I hate that I can go from being okay with my chest one minute and hating it to perfectly fine with it the next day. And I’m not… I’m not a girl. You’re probably not interested in anyone who isn’t cis.”

“Baby…” Spencer lifted your chin with his index finger, beckoning you to look him in the eyes. “I love you. I love you for you. Neither your gender nor your sexuality changes that. You know that bi can mean that one is attracted to two _or more_ genders. You count in that. Even if I wasn’t bi, I would still love you. You’re beautiful and you’re you. Your dysphoria doesn’t define who you are and if you want to bind, then do it. It won’t change how I see you. I want you to be happy. I wouldn’t have you any other way. You’re the one for me.”

“You mean that?” you asked, meekly.

“I mean it.” He said before he kissed your brow.


End file.
